


i carry it in my heart

by boobuu



Category: The Magnificent Seven (2016)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-02
Updated: 2016-11-02
Packaged: 2018-08-28 14:21:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 830
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8449603
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/boobuu/pseuds/boobuu
Summary: From the kink meme: "Billy and Goodnight survive the Battle of Rose Creek and fuck like the minute they can get alone for five minutes. Hyped up on adrenaline, possibly still bleeding, thank-god-you're-alive super desperate clingy sex. :)"





	

**Author's Note:**

> As it says on the tin, this is just more porn. Hand to god, I do actually know what plot and dialogue look like, and may very well demonstrate this knowledge at some point in the future. Leave prompts (OR FILL THINGS) in the kink meme! Also open to suggestions or general fandom talk at my [tumblr](http://megajubbly.tumblr.com).

Goody laughs, half-hysterically, as Billy pushes him up against the door and claws at the buttons of his clothes, hands cramped and sore from hours of gripping and shooting and throwing. And killing, Goody thinks, blood splattered all over them: although, miraculously, none of it theirs, or at least not enough of it to count.

And that’s when the adrenaline kicks in, when Goody well and full realizes that both of them are still alive enough to cheat their way through another day, and he pulls Billy back by his hair and puts his teeth in his throat. He can feel the breath rattling through Billy, unsteady and quick-tempoed, listens to Billy moan out loud.

Billy ends up half-ripping Goody’s shirt off, cusses as he tears his belt off and lets it drop heavy to the floor, the weight of his knives making a loud thud. Goody has half a second to worry about how loud they’re being and who’s around to hear it, until Billy shoves his thigh between Goody’s legs and starts thrusting. Goody groans into the curve of Billy’s neck, rides out the pleasure for a few moments, and then pulls himself back into something resembling coherency.

They’re both alive, goddammit, and he’s not about to waste it on a two-minute rut against the door.

He kisses Billy hard, open-mouthed and filthy: waits for Billy to lean into it, digs his hands into Billy’s pants and strokes until the head’s all slicked and Billy’s pressing choked-out gasps into his mouth. He pushes Billy back a little, drops hard to his knees, wincing a bit, swallows Billy down. Billy curls over, panting and whining as he struggles for balance, one hand scrabbling at the door and one hand digging grooves down Goody’s back.

Goody pulls off of Billy, who glares down at him, but he lets Goody crowd him backwards until he hits the edge of the bed. Goody strips Billy of his pants and grinds his palm into his cock, seeing Billy splayed out like that, watching him with impatient eyes. “Jus’ a minute,” he promises, rifling through their belongings until he gets his hand on the bottle of oil.

Billy’s still muttering something vicious and unkind as Goody slides into the space between his thighs, yanks Goody down as he lines their cocks up and executes a lethal roll of his hips. “Jesus _Christ_ ,” he bites out, fumbling with the bottle. Goody gets his fingers slick, no thanks to the distracting sumbitch beneath him, presses insistently at Billy’s hole with one finger and then two, quickly and without finesse.

Billy always wants it rough when he manages to come out on top of whatever new brawl he finds himself in, blood humming under his skin, and Goody does not intend to forsake him.

Goody bottoms out and swears, scrabbling at the skin of Billy’s hips. Pauses: tries to catch his breath, tries desperately not to come. Billy snarls, “come on, _c’mon_ , Goody,” his English slurring at the edges, his careful pronunciation falling to the wayside as he trusts Goody to understand.

Billy pants when Goody digs grooves into his hips, starts whining and bucking when Goody starts a slow, generous pace that quickly devolves into a more brutal rhythm. Billy demands: harder and more, doesn’t quit asking for it until the frame of the bed starts jerking against the floorboards, Billy’s breath punched out of him. Goody hauls him up by the hips and fucks into him as Billy’s spine arches up into one tense curve, eyes rolled back and still wanting more.

Billy claws stripes down his back; Goody puts his mouth on Billy, anywhere he can reach, biting and sucking bruises over his body. They fuck like they’re trying to crawl into each other’s skin, like Goody didn’t leave Billy to die alone, like they’re both on borrowed time.

Goody folds Billy in half and listens to his breath hitch at the new angle. Billy scrambles to get a hand on his cock, and when he does, he goes all rigid and silent, brows furrowed and eyes wide. Stares into Goody, clutches him a little closer as he shudders through his orgasm, and all Goody manages is a choked off cry, an endearment strangled in his throat, and then he follows suit.

———

He comes back to his senses, slowly and then all at once: the realization that they’ve survived, that Billy’s still here, somehow, sitting sharp in his chest. Billy shushes him muzzily, runs a hand through his hair.

“Stop thinking,” Billy says, voice low and soft, “I’m here. So are you. That’s enough for me.”

Goody has never known forgiveness to be that simple. But he realized something last night, running scared in the dark: it’s the same for him.

So he presses himself down along the length of their bodies, grins when Billy shoves at him, grumbling at the weight. Sets his face in the crook of Billy’s neck, and breathes in.


End file.
